Chapter 64

Ilifted my head, blowing out an unsteady breath, as I heard the front door open and close. Genevieve was back. Fuck. I ran a hand over my face, scrubbing away whatever tears I fucking could. Shit, I was a mess. This wasn’t how I pictured talking to her.

Fuck, this was going to be a goddamn shitshow.

I should’ve put the picture back, but I couldn’t do it. Instead, I shoved it in my pocket as I got to my feet. Taking the stairs two at a time, I found her in the kitchen. Those gorgeous eyes widened at the sight of me—not that I blamed her. Considering the stack of boxes she had, being blindsided by me wasn’t on the list of things she’d been expecting.

And upstairs no less.

“Genevieve—”

“Get out,” she snapped the second I tried to talk.

“Genevieve—”

“Get out,” she interrupted once more. The lower lip tremble, the tension in her shoulders, the glassiness in her eyes—none of it was lost on me. “Get out!”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” I demanded, ignoring her as I pointed up the stairs. She couldn’t have really fucking thought she could hide this from me for that long. There was no way in hell. “Why haven’t you changed the goddamn room? Sleeping in the guest room? And his nursery? You can’t live—”

“Can’t?” Genevieve repeated. Her voice rose a notch, laced with more anger than I’d heard from her in a long fucking time. “You don’t get to tell me what to do! You left me! You left me, Killian! Alone and bleeding in the hospital! You lost every right you had to say anything! About anything!”

“You can’t live like this, Genevieve! It’s not healthy!” I exploded. I couldn’t fucking help myself. It wasn’t good for her. She had to see that.

“You know what’s not healthy? Telling the hospital staff that I didn’t have a clue where you went! Having to go file paperwork to register his stillbirth alone! Having to figure out if I should have him cremated or buried alone! Going to pick up our son’s ashes alone!” That last sentence was a punch to the fucking gut. Her breathing picked up as sobs tore through her. The sound ripped me apart little-by-little. I hadn’t fucking thought about any of that. She screamed, “I did that! Me! Not you! No, because you couldn’t be bothered with any of it!”

“Don’t you fucking dare act like that’s why I left,” I snarled. The fucking dark hole I’d fallen into after we lost him was one I thought I’d never be able to crawl out of. Hell, some days I wasn’t sure if I ever had and that my sanity was a temporary delusion.

“I wouldn’t know, would I? Because you didn’t tell me! You just walked out of my life and left me there to deal with all of it!”

“I never meant for you to go through all of that alone! You should’ve told someone!”

She gestured wildly around the empty house.

“Told who?” Genevieve shrieked. “Tell who what? I didn’t have a clue where you were! And no one knew about him! It was supposed to be you and me! You were supposed to be there for me! I only wanted you.”

“I’m sorry!” I yelled at her because what the fuck else was I supposed to say? What else could I say? I sure as hell couldn’t go back and fucking fix it.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? What good does that do me? Where was your sorry when I had to come home? By myself? And try to recover?” she demanded. Every question was another knife-twisting stab. Sure, I’d fucking thought about what it was like for her after I left. Those thoughts had been a major contributor to my downward spiral. But hearing them? Fuck. “Where was your sorry when I got sick because part of my placenta had been retained, and I had to drive myself back to the hospital? Alone!”

“I got that call.” I barely heard myself as I said the words. They were the wrong fucking words to say. Her eyes widened with utter disbelief.

“You got that call?” Genevieve asked quietly, her voice breaking. “You got that call, and you… what? Dismissed it? Told them to fuck off in true Killian Byrne style? Did you even answer the call?”

I said nothing, shifting uncomfortably as I stared at her. How the fuck was I supposed to tell her I ignored the call? That I heard the voicemail and deleted it because I was so damn drunk that I knew I’d only make it worse.

How the fuck was I supposed to tell her I wasn’t some white fucking knight? I was a fucking bastard with a cold heart.

“You coward,” she said, and my voice stuck in my throat. “You never even answered the call. You listened to a goddamn voicemail. You didn’t care.”

I fucking snapped. Every ounce of self-control I had to not lose my temper went flying out the fucking window with those last three words. I lost sight of everything as we both devolved into nothing but angry screaming. Three years of unsaid shit came out of me and out of her.

Anything I said, she didn’t hear. Whatever she was saying, I couldn’t hear.

Grief, guilt, shame, and more erupted inside me—crashing through me in violent waves.

Her hand lashed out to grab a coffee mug, and she chucked it across the fucking room. It crashed into the wall behind me, shattering. It yanked me out of my rage and shut me the fuck up.

“Get out!” Genevieve hollered and threw another one. Her aim was fucking shit—thank fuck. Not that I couldn’t protect myself but shit. The last thing I needed was my wife to hit me with a fucking coffee mug when I was teetering with my self-control. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

For a moment—for a fraction of a fucking moment—I considered staying. But the rage surging through me was dangerous. My wolf pressed and pushed, desperate for its release. I was wound up so fucking tight that I knew what would happen if I stayed. Genevieve and I… we both could be destructive as fuck when we wanted to be. We were forces of nature fucking battling each other.

No good could come out of me staying.

And from the look on her face, she knew it too.

I stormed out of the house. It was the smartest fucking thing I could do in that moment.

Head-to-toe, I was fucking shaking. I couldn’t stop. My head was all over the fucking place as I drove through town with every intention of going back to Mom’s. No matter how loud I played the music, I couldn’t drown out the sound of Genevieve’s broken sobs. They’d be fucking etched in my brain forever.

God, what a miserable fuck up I was. She deserved so much better than the likes of me in her life.

I stopped at the Main Street stop sign, my fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel. It was just me. There was no one else. There wasn’t a damn good reason I couldn’t turn right and head to Mom’s like I was supposed to.

But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

If I continued on straight, I could get the fuck out of there.

If I left, she’d get her fucking life back.

If I left, I wouldn’t keep disappointing Declan.

There wouldn’t be pack tension if I was gone.

My entire fucking presence in town brought nothing but pain and frustration to everyone around me.

Fuck, people didn’t start dying until I showed back up. How long would it take for someone to say that shit?

I grabbed my phone from the middle console and sent a fast message to Nolan.

Go help her.

It was the least I could fucking do. Genevieve needed more than I could ever fucking give her. I’d done nothing but let her down. All of them.